Penalty Box Daddy
MM Hockey Romance
by Chase Power
Available at all major retailers
Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Age Gap, Grumpy/Sunshine, Veteran/Rookie, Forced Proximity, Secret Relationship, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Teammates to Lovers, Mentor/Mentee, Found Family
His mentor. His protector. His daddy. The one man who could end his career — or become his whole world.
Nolan Cross is thirty-two, battle-scarred, and playing every game like it might be his last. A torn ACL left him with a rebuilt knee and the fear that management is waiting for a reason to phase him out. He doesn’t need Wesley Kovac — the most talented, most infuriating, most aggressively mouthy rookie he’s ever shared ice with.
Wes Kovac is twenty-two, cocky, and desperate to prove he belongs. Every authority figure in his life has tried to break him down. He doesn’t trust mentors. He especially doesn’t trust Nolan Cross — the man with gray eyes and hands big enough to pin him against the boards and make him forget his own name.
But the film room gets smaller every session. The five AM skates get more physical. And when a road trip forces them into the same hotel room — and the same bed — the tension detonates into the hottest, most devastating night of both their lives.
Now they’re playing the most dangerous game: secret relationship in a sport that’s always watching. The feelings neither of them planned on are threatening to burn down everything they’ve built — on the ice and off it.
You’ll love this if you enjoy:
✅ Grumpy veteran x bratty rookie MM hockey romance
✅ Age gap with earned daddy kink and praise kink
✅ Forced proximity that starts on ice and ends in bed
✅ Secret relationship with real stakes
✅ Graphic, explicit, emotional sex scenes (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️)
✅ Found family hockey team
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: Explicit MM sexual content including daddy kink, praise kink, and D/s dynamics. Strong language, on-ice violence, emotional neglect themes. 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
Not sure yet? Read the opening right here.
Chapter One
The kid was going to cost us the game.
I knew it the way I knew most things on the ice — not from watching the play unfold, but from feeling the shape of it before it happened. Twenty-three seconds into his shift, Kovac was already too deep in the offensive zone, pinching when he should have been cycling, chasing the puck like it owed him money.
We were up 2-1 with six minutes left in the third. Six minutes. All we had to do was play structure, collapse to the net, and let the clock bleed. A monkey with a stick could have managed it.
Wesley Kovac was not a monkey with a stick. He was a twenty-two-year-old forward with hands like a surgeon and the decision-making of a golden retriever spotting a squirrel. Fast, talented, and absolutely goddamn allergic to doing the simple thing when the spectacular thing was an option.
I watched from the bench as he stripped the puck off their defenseman — which, fine, was a nice play — and instead of dumping it in or cycling it low, he tried to dangle through two guys and force a shot from a bad angle. The puck bounced off the goalie’s pad and cleared the zone. Their transition was immediate. Three on two the other way.
Dex leaned over next to me. “He’s gonna—”
“Yep.”
Kovac backchecked hard, I’ll give him that. But he was out of position because he’d been out of position thirty seconds ago, and now he was a half-step behind their center, and instead of angling him off, he reached. Stuck his stick out, caught air, and then — because the universe has a sense of humor and a grudge against me specifically — he decided to make up for the missed poke check by driving their winger face-first into the boards from behind.
The whistle blew before the guy hit the glass. Two minutes for boarding. The ref’s arm went up like a middle finger aimed directly at our bench.
“Son of a bitch,” Mercer muttered from behind us. I didn’t turn around. Didn’t need to. I could feel the temperature drop.
Kovac skated to the box with his chin up, because of course he did. Didn’t look at the bench. Didn’t look at Mercer. Sat down, pulled his gloves off, and stared straight ahead like he was posing for a fucking trading card.
I hated him a little for that. Not for the penalty — penalties happen. I hated him because I recognized the posture. The rigid spine, the locked jaw, the performance of not giving a shit. I’d been doing that act since before he learned to skate.
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
🔥 Want an EXCLUSIVE Bonus Chapter?
The Reward — A scene TOO HOT for retailers
After their first playoff win, Nolan takes Wes home and shows him exactly what earned means. Praise kink. Daddy kink. The filthiest, most emotionally devastating bonus scene in the series.
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